


Rest in Peace

by ThayerKerbasy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlife, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s13e04 The Big Empty, Gen, The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 20:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: Crowley was sleeping soundly until someone woke him up.  He shouldn't have been surprised to see who was causing such a ruckus.





	Rest in Peace

Everything was silent and silence was everything. There was no pain, no sorrow, no heartbreak or disappointment, only a vast nothing. 

For so long there had been a void aching to be filled, never satisfied with the creature comforts it was given. No matter how much he tried, the void could not be filled with material objects, food, luxuries, or physical gratification. The hole inside him demanded love and it never received what it craved. It was a need which was never fulfilled and it had eaten him up inside. Perhaps that was why there was nothing left.

The void was gone. Everything else was also gone, but the gnawing hunger which had threatened to consume him had miraculously stopped. He was free.

None of that crossed his mind because that would have required an awareness which he lacked — or at least, that was true until he heard something in the place with no sound. A voice that tickled the back of his mind with its familiarity, softly demanding interaction. “Hello?”

There were no echoes, and the great nothingness threatened to swallow up the sound, muffling the edges of it as if it didn’t belong there. Tiny tapping footsteps followed, and those, too, were barely audible, tentative things, but the soft sounds prodded his consciousness until he could no longer ignore them. There were sounds in his nothing.

The sounds could not be ignored, but he could keep his eyes closed. That thought led to the realization that he had eyes and a face and that he lay upon a surface and suddenly the nothing wasn’t nothing at all, but something. A second set of tiny, muffled footsteps joined the first, and a second less-familiar voice spoke, and he wished nothing more than to put his hands over his ears so he couldn’t hear anything, but that led to the realization that he had hands and ears.

The something was vast and no longer silent. The voices spoke, called the place Nothing and Empty, and proclaimed that it existed before creation. It was the final resting place of angels and demons alike. The twinge of awareness that had been awoken suggested that the familiar speaker was an angel and that he, himself, was a demon. It was a bitter thought and one which he would have been glad to forget.

The other voice, laden with frustration, so kindly informed him that they were in a place of rest, that nobody was meant to awaken, and that everyone should be sleeping. It then demanded to know why there was anyone awake. Without knowing anything more, he found himself sympathizing with the unknown speaker. Sleep meant silence and a freedom from his burdens which had dogged him for as long as he could remember and just like eyes and hands, the memories of his past were things he had always had but discovered anew.

His name was Crowley, formerly Fergus Roderick MacLeod. His mother was called Rowena, his son was called Gavin, he had a complicated history with both, and as they were neither angels nor demons, he would never see either of them again.

There had been others he had considered family and they could all be traced back to a single man named Dean. Dean was also not an angel but was (had been?) a demon, so that was a more complicated thought. He felt at once a longing for Dean’s company and a wish to never see him again. An ache stabbed his chest and he curled into a ball of pain and loneliness.

Names and faces came back to him and along with them came the knowledge of the things he had done. Life was messy and complicated, and a desire to please the people he cared about had made things that much more messy and complicated. The feelings associated with those memories made him wish again for the silence that had been broken.

He could admit his mistakes. If he had it all to do over, he would have done things differently. Let Lucifer be locked away in his prison, walk away from Hell, perhaps merely tell Dean the truth from the start. Instead, he had waited too long.

The other voice wanted information from the familiar voice and it wasn’t taking no for an answer. It demanded and then set out to take what wasn’t given freely. It wasn’t until the familiar voice screamed that Crowley was able to place it.

Castiel had no business being in a place for dead angels and demons. He was supposed to live forever and look after—

The Nothing ate Castiel’s screams, nibbling away at the edges and making them small, but not small enough because they still assaulted Crowley’s ears. There was pain there, but also struggle. Despite everything, Castiel fought against whichever all-powerful being held sway over their afterlife, even though it was undoubtedly pointless.

Why though? Why fight? They were dead and if only Castiel would give in, they could finally both rest. No more pain, no more loneliness, only eternal slumber in the peaceful quiet of the Nothing.

The screams faded and were devoured entirely and for a few blessed moments, the Nothing was silent. Crowley felt a twinge in what had once been his heart, but if he could only go back to sleep, that would be remedied.

The silence was broken by a groan. The Other lamented its lack of sleep, to which Castiel countered that the Other should send him back to Earth. The small part of Crowley’s mind that remembered pop culture seemed to think that a record scratch would have been an appropriate sound effect for that.

Go back? Even if it were possible to somehow talk one’s way out of the afterlife, it was a terrible idea. What was there back on Earth besides more pain? Crowley had never shied away from his own masochistic tendencies, but he thought perhaps Castiel was taking things a step too far.

The Other suggested flinging Castiel so deep into the Empty (not the Nothing) that he wouldn’t be a bother anymore. If Crowley thought it would work, he would have volunteered to be flung himself, but it seemed highly implausible. Castiel seemed to agree and persisted in his demands to be sent back, which the Other unsurprisingly argued against.

Then, as Crowley should have expected, Castiel said, “Sam and Dean need me.”

Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. Batman and Robin had taken care of countless apocalyptic disasters before and would continue to do so whether or not they had help. Sure, it might be more difficult without their patron saints of Style and Smiting around, but they’d manage.

“Oh save it,” replied the Other. “I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes? I know what you hate, I know who you love, what you fear. There is nothing for you back there. No. Here, let me show you.”

The Empty again softened the edges of Castiel’s screams, as if trying to spare the other slumbering residents. If only it had been able to insulate Crowley against the noise. He still didn’t know why he was awake, or why Castiel was up and moving while Crowley was somewhere in between.

“Come on, Castiel! Wouldn’t you rather be a fond memory than a constant, festering disappointment?”

And that was just it, wasn’t it? Crowley had given everything for the Winchesters, had sacrificed himself to fix his mistakes and get rid of Lucifer, and maybe, hopefully change the way they thought of him. If he went back and nothing had changed, then what was there for him? Better, by far, to stay and sleep forever. He had done his part.

There was an impact and a grunt and the barely there sound of a body hitting what passed for a floor. Inexplicably, the Other’s tone then became soothing. “Just let’s lay down. Let’s just try and sleep. Hmm? Think about it. Infinite peace, yes? No regrets. No pain. Kiddo, save yourself.”

For a being who had seen inside Castiel’s head, the Other certainly seemed hell bent on applying precisely the wrong strategy. Crowley was unsurprised when Castiel said he was already saved and received another blow for his troubles. If Castiel was anything, he was stubbornly dedicated to his causes. It was honestly something Crowley admired about him, not that he’d ever say that out loud.

“You can prance, and you can preen, and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings, but somehow I’m awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep _you_ awake until we both go insane.” Another solid blow, another groan. “I will fight you, fight you, and fight you for…ever. For eternity.”

The reply came softly, the words half swallowed by its domain. “No. No.”

“Release me.” Two footsteps sounded in the Empty, somehow resisting the devouring Nothing. “Release. Me.”

Crowley wasn’t sure when he had decided anything, but his course was clear. He opened his eyes and was confronted with the vast expanse of nothing. Climbing to his feet unsteadily, he reflexively brushed off the front of his suit as he did so. There was no blood, no tear in his shirt, no sign whatsoever of his demise.

Some unmeasurable distance away, Castiel stood facing… himself? How cliche. The two stood practically nose to nose sneering at each other.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Crowley called out, “Shut up the both of you! Can’t a fellow get some uninterrupted sleep around here?” He took a step forward, the sound of his footstep hardly audible. “I’d do what the angel says if I were you. He’s not the sort to give up. He woke me not long after he woke you, and I doubt it’ll stop there. The longer he stays, the louder this place will get, and you’ll wish you’d listened.”

Other Castiel turned a sneer towards Crowley. “And I suppose you think I should be sending you back as well? Here to join the sleepless sleepover, are you?”

“Are you joking? No, I’m with you. All I want is to go back to sleep. It’s a good deal all around, really. Send the fellow back to Earth and the rest of us can get back to our beauty rest. Honestly, you look as if you could use a few more millennia.”

“ _Send him back to Earth._ Is _that_ all? Are you sure you don’t want any more unprecedented favours? You don’t want me to send him back with godly power while I’m at it?”

“No,” replied Castiel, speaking for the first time since Crowley had joined them. “I don’t want to be any more powerful than I’m supposed to be. Just send me back.”

Crowley donned his most obnoxiously smug smile. “You heard the man. But I do have one request. Send him back in a proper fitting suit. And for the love of God, a better coat than that.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Oh Sparkles, if you’re bound and determined to look the part of a middle class businessman, at least wear clothes that fit you properly. And just because you’re stuck behind the wheel of a car doesn’t mean you need to wear a car coat. That wretched potato sack you’ve been wearing doesn’t billow behind you like the old one did. It’s all about image, darling.”

The Other clenched and unclenched its fists, jaw tight and brow furrowed, until finally it shook its head and said, “Fine! Go then!”

Crowley locked eyes with Castiel and nodded once, attempting to tell him everything there wasn’t time to say. Castiel’s face softened and he returned the nod and said, “I’ll look after them as best I can.”

“Yes yes, all very touching. Shut up,” said the Other, and with a wave of its hand, Castiel was gone.

Without Castiel there, the Empty was quiet. The Nothing felt like it was patiently waiting for everything to go back to the way it was supposed to be. Tapping his foot, the Other stared at him expectantly.

“I suppose I’ll just lay down here then,” said Crowley.

When the Other raised its eyebrows, Crowley took a step back and eased himself down to the floor or ground or whatever the surface beneath him. Wary of the eternal cosmic being standing over him, Crowley lay on his back and said, “Little hard to fall asleep with you hovering over me like that.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” replied the Other, and so saying, got down on the floor beside Crowley, propped itself up on one elbow and stroked his hair. “There now, just rest your pretty little head and go the fuck to sleep.”

It was strange, but oddly soothing. Knowing he was already dead and Castiel was on his way back to take care of things set his mind at ease. Closing his eyes, Crowley relaxed and the floor softened beneath him, cushioning his body like a memory foam mattress that had already gotten to know him. The body pressed against his was warm and comforting. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but with his eyes closed he could pretend. Darkness claimed his thoughts and with gentle fingers in his hair, Crowley slipped into peaceful slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I saw The Big Empty, I knew I had to write Crowley in the Empty. His absence in that episode demanded to be addressed. I wrote this because I needed it, but I hope it resonates with others, too.
> 
> In progress right now is the next installment of The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel as well as my Crowley Big Bang. The former should post sometime in November and the latter at some point in December (depending on when I'm scheduled to post).
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos are what keep me writing, so please be generous with them. And if you feel like watching me struggle with words on Tumblr, you can find me there as @thayerkerbasy


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